Alone?
by PerfectingSilence
Summary: Francis comes home one night drunk. Him and Arthur argue and this leaves Arthur wondering one thing: Is he alone or not? Only time will tell. FrUK. Rated T for Arthur's potty mouth.


_**Title: Alone?**_

_**Rating: T, for depression, fighting, slight violence, self harm, attempted suicide, and England's potty mouth.**_

**_Description_**_**: Francis comes home one night drunk. Him and Arthur argue and this leaves Arthur wonderine one thing: IS he alone or not? Only time will tell. FrUK.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters.**_

_**A/N: Hope you like it!**_

I sat at the table, clutching my tea in both hands and waiting for Francis to get home. I was worried, to say the least. The man was two hours late and had yet to even call. Lately, he spent more and more time away from home. It was like he was trying to avoid me, which made no sense. Sure, we didn't have the best relationship in the world, but we always made up in the end. Besides, we had been getting along rather well when he suddenly became distant.

The sound of the front door opening and closing distracted me from my thoughts. Thank God that git was finally home. I smiled faintly until I got a good look at my boyfriend. He was swaying and stumbling around the room, loudly singing a French song. He saw me glaring at him and fell silent. "What? You think you're all that and a bag of chips?" he pointed at me, "Well I'm a bag of Skittles, taste the rainbow! Fool!" With that, he fell onto the couch. His words were very slurred and it was pretty obvious that he was drunk.

"Are you drunk, Francis?" I had to ask, even though I already knew the answer. "ARE YOU DRUNK, yo wanker?" he was being very loud. I sighed in annoyance. "Bloody hell. You need to lay off the alcohol, you twit" This seemed to anger him and I could hear the acidic tone in his voice when he said, "I can have as much freaking alcohol as I shall please!" God, he was obnoxious when drunk. "Then you come home and expect me to take care of you! Wanker!" Our argument was escalating quickly as usual.

"You call me a wanker? ME? Damn you to hell, England!" his words stung, but they always did when he was like this. "Ohh, shut your mouth, Francis! I'm the one who does the most in this relationship! I clean, handle bills, and take care of your every need! All you do is get drunk, fight with me, and refuse to let me cook! You bloody git!" Most people say fighting fire with fire doesn't work. And most of the time they are right. "Then why do you stay with me?! Hmm? And by the way how dare you! I do stuff too!" He was hard to understand, but I was used to it and could make out his words well enough.

"What do you ever do?! And some days, I don't even know why I stay!" It was true. There were days when I thought about walking out the front door and never coming back. "I take care of you emotionally" I walked over and slapped him across the face as hard as I could before saying, "You idiot! When was the last time you told me you loved me? Do you even care any more Francis?!" my eyes teared up as I asked this. I didn't want to loose him. I wanted him to love me as much as I love him. His only response was, "Rawr!" which made me furious. He couldn't even answer my bloody question? "Answer me, dammit! Do you care about me anymore? Like you used to?" I had to know the truth.

"I have always cared!" his voice was beginning to gather a defensive tone. "Have you?! You don't act like it anymore..." a bit of sorrow weaved into my voice as I spoke. "Yes! Always, I cared" for some reason that surprised me. I started to question him, but stopped as I realized that salty tears were running down my face. He walked over to me with a heartbroken expression on his face. I knew he hated seeing me cry. Gently cupping my face in his hand, he said, "Oh, mon amour. Ma belle-Angleterre. S'il vous plaît arrêter de pleurer. Je suis ici. Je né vais pas vous quitter." (Oh, my love. My beautiful England. Please stop crying. I'm here. I won't leave you)

He pulled me close to him and wrapped his arms around me protectively. I cried into his chest, glad to have him there to hold me. Carefully picking me up, he walked over to the couch and sat down. For a while, I just sobbed into his shirt as he rubbed soothing circles into my back. He said comforting things in French, his voice soft and calming. When I finally stopped crying, he wiped away the tears with his thumb and kissed me. It wasn't romantic and passionate. It was sweet and comforting, and instantly made me feel better. Resting my head in his lap, I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. For a while we sat like that, silently keeping each other company. It was wonderful.

*A few days later...*

A week had passed since Francis and I had our fight. Our relationship was mended and we were getting along so much better. This took a lot of stress away from my life, an added bonus. Everything seemed truly perfect now, if there is such a thing as perfection.

At the moment, I was sitting on the couch, watching reruns of Doctor Who and sipping my tea. Francis was in one of the back rooms working on clearing his inbox of emails. I set the teacup down on the small glass coffee table and noticed he had left his phone. Being curious as to what time it was, I unlocked the screen and looked at the phone's clock, which read 2:03 p.m. I was about to set the phone back down when I noticed he had an unread text. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't trying to spy on him or invade his privacy at all. I was merely trying to help him out by seeing if the text was important. It was from Antonio, one of Francis' best friends. Clicking on it opened a tab and I could then view every text the two had sent back and forth. I began reading them and felt my heart drop to my stomach.

_Antonio: Hola! (Hello!) What are you up to, amor? (love)_

_Me (Francis, It was his phone): Don't. Quit calling me that._

_Antonio: Are you still worried about Arthur catching us?_

Francis: Yes! It's making me feel guilty. Lying to him like this.

_Antonio: Then break up with him so we can be together._

_Francis: That will break his heart. I do still love him, you know._

_Antonio: Si, I know (Yes, I know)_

_Francis: I should go. I have work to do._

_Antonio: Alright. Will I see you tomorrow?_

Francis: Of course. Je né peux pas attendre. Je t'aime. (I can't wait. I love you)

_Antonio: Te quiero demasiado. (I love you too)_

I couldn't believe it. That frog was cheating on me. With Antonio! Furry burned through me, replacing the original shock. When I turned around, I noticed that Francis had walked back into the room and was watching me. "Love, let me expla-" "HOW DARE YOU! YOU SICK, LYING, CHEAT! I HATE YOU! GET OUT!" I screamed at him as loudly as I could. "Please let's just talk ab-" he tried to say before I cut him off again. "GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!" I threw the phone at him adding, "AND TAKE THAT BLOODY PHONE WITH YOU!" guessing by the way his face fell, I could tell he understood.

I didn't want him anymore. After all, it was pretty obvious he no longer wanted me. He picked his phone up off the floor, whispered "I'm so sorry" lightly, and then left without putting up a fight. A soft 'click' of the front door and he was gone, leaving me alone in the silence. That silence was soon broken as violent sobs escaped from my throat, racking through my body. Why did everyone leave in the end? Why was it that no one cared about me enough to stay?

At that point I felt useless. Unloved, worthless, ugly, annoying. Suddenly I was just ready to give up. It's not like anyone would care if I died anyways. I searched through a kitchen drawer until I found what I was looking for: a recently sharpened knife. Slicing it across my wrist a couple times, I braced myself for the pain, but was surprised to feel none. I looked at my arm to make sure the knife had actually cut the skin. I saw deep red blood running down my arm, onto the tile floor. I also noticed that a bright light was making itself present and that mt face was warm.

I opened my eyes to find myself in my bedroom. The curtains were open, inviting the morning sunlight in. My breathing was very uneven. It had just been a dream. Next to me, Francis had been laying down, watching me sleep. When I suddenly woke and jolted up, me looked at me with concern and worry in his eyes. I latched onto him, hugging him close and burying my face in his shoulder, where I cried. He held me and let me ruin his shirt with my tears.

After he finally got me to stop crying, I explained my dream to him. Yes, he had gotten drunk, but the rest was just part of the dream. In reality, our relationship was fine. He didn't get drunk a lot, we didn;t fight a lot, and he wasn't cheating on me. We were a very happy couple and loved being together. Still, my nightmare made sense. After all, my biggest fear was being alone. Completely and utterly alone. Thank God that's how it would stay. Just a fear. Nothing more.

_**Thanks for reading! I would like to thank my friend for helping me with this. She was Francis and I was Arthur. The argument in the beginning is what we said and then I made up the rest. I would also like to thank my other friend for typing out some of the end. So yeah. Did you like it? I was just going to let Arthur die, but then I decided to be awesome and let him leave. Leave a comment and tell me what you thought. Love you all! Grazie!**_


End file.
